


once golden and starbright

by titaniaeli



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Parenting, Brotherly Angst, Child Abuse, Cross-Generational Friendship, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Threats of Slavery, Loneliness, Physical Abuse, Platonic Soulmates, Protective Ace, Protective Marco, Self-Esteem Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titaniaeli/pseuds/titaniaeli
Summary: Sabo never sail out to sea. His brothers never came for him. He remained in his birdcage, yearning for dreams long gone. He’s the disgraced first son, the shamed heir, the greatest failure of Outlook III.And Marco, well, there's no fucking way he's going to stand by and watch as someone was being hit by his own father, noble or not. Besides, his brothers have teased him quite often about his bleeding heart. That, and he has always wanted to steal a noble.





	1. Chapter 1

“Don’t you understand the image of our family when you leave the house?” Belinda implored, looking stricken as she glared at her oldest son in disappointment. “Our neighbours will talk! You have no idea how much of a terrible gossiper Matilda is!”

Sabo stayed silent, defiant under the heavy gazes of his parents. When he refused to respond, Outlook cracked his ornate walking cane down on his shoulder. The handle slammed against bone, causing him to stagger slightly at the hit. His eyes watered, but he stifled his cry of pain.

“Horrible, ungrateful child!” Outlook accused, still brandishing his lion-headed cane in the air. Sabo fought the urge to flinch. “Are you that witless to not understand a simple order? No sneaking out of the house without your escorts!”

 _Escorts_ , he scoffed inwardly. They were a pair of bodyguards hired specially to make sure Sabo does not go anywhere that would discriminate and further stained the family’s reputation.

Stelly had recently obtained the Princess’s favour, and Outlook had seized the opportunity to secure an engagement with the Royal family. His younger son was the future King of Goa Kingdom, and his elder son was the disgraced heir of their family.

“Go back to your room, Sabo.” Belinda scowled. “And no dinner for you tonight. Maybe you’ll understand the grief you are causing your parents because of your thoughtless actions.”

 _Another day of being starved_ , he thought, his stomach already clenching in dread. He swallowed the bile and walked stiffly back to his room. He was used to the hunger pangs whenever his parents withheld meals from him as punishment.

The moment he shut the door behind him, he divested his jacket and slipped his shirt down to look at his shoulder. There was a blossoming bruise on his shoulder blade that would surely turn a bluish black by tomorrow. He bit back a groan as he rubbed at the throbbing pain. The tip of the cane was encased with steel, and Outlook had grown skilful in aiming for the tender spots on his body.

Spitefully, he savoured the pain as he buttoned back up his shirt. It’s the only thing he could feel these days. Today would mark the eighth year since he was ripped away from his brothers.  

 _His brothers._ The mere reminder of them always brought heartache. Ace should be sailing across the Grand Line by now, he thought. They had pledged to set sail when they turned seventeen.

Luffy have two more years to go before he began his own voyage to the end of the Grand Line. His younger brother’s dream was the most difficult to accomplish, but Sabo was confident he could do it. When Luffy spoke, you could not do anything but believe him. It gnawed at him, how close Luffy was to him, yet he was trapped in this hellhole.

He slowly dropped to his knees and elbows, crawling beneath his bed and searching for something on the ground. When his fingers caught on a slight hitch in the floor, he quickly pried up the loose tile. Looking at the door cautiously, he reached down to unhook the bo from under his shirt. The weapon was detachable with three separate parts, and it could be easily attached back together to form a long staff for battle. He slipped the bo into the hole before placing back the tile into position.

The more his parents tried to cage him up, the more he wanted to rebel. Keeping fit and training himself was one of the ways he could rebel against them.

Once the tile was safely covered up, he sat back to stare listlessly at his bed. There was no way he could endure this any longer.

He was suffocating.

He didn't know it was possible to die like this, to simply fade away because he wasn’t really living. He was sick of all the wealth, the pretentious nobles and the ostentatious finery in Goa. All the gold and glitter, the beauty and luminesce—just to hide the rottenness and decay beneath this travesty of a kingdom. Nothing was real, and he was existing these eight years drifting along with the flow of time, the colours all but washed out from his sight because he doesn’t know what they were anymore. Everything was dull and wearisome. Everything _(everyone)_ he has ever loved was gone.

He could do this. He had survived Bluejam. He had survived leaving his brothers. He’s surviving his parents now, and he would continue to do so as long as he has to.

_He could do this. He could do this. He could do this._


	2. Chapter 2

“We’re going on a business trip.” Outlook snapped, barging into his room. “Pack up for a week.”

Sabo stared at him, his book dangling from one hand in surprise.

“What?” He blurted. At his father’s dirty look, he quickly amended himself. “Where are we going, sir?”

“We’re heading towards the New World to attend the Christmas Ball.” Outlook said curtly, already turning to leave. “You know the drill. You will present yourself as my heir and conduct yourself with impeccable manners. I will not have you acting insolently towards my prospective collaborators.”

The New World. The _New World._  

His heart skipped a beat and his mouth went dry.

The door slamming shut behind Outlook startled him out of his reverie. His heart was racing in his chest, and his hands trembled slightly as he carefully put down his book.

All these years of longing for the vast blue ocean, and now Outlook was offering it so easily on a silver platter? It’s not freedom, but it’s close. It would be the closest he could get. Perhaps he could even... He swiftly squashed the dangerous thought before it could even form.

Swallowing anxiously, he stood up to start packing. His movements felt stilted and unsteady, excitement warring with shock. This would be the first time Outlook allowed him out of Goa Kingdom. Out of this damn _town_.

He didn't know what to think.

He had been planning to leave once he’s strong enough, but now there’s a chance…

He’s _afraid_ , he realized with a jolt. He sat back down on his bed.

The clock on the wall goes _tick, tock, tick tock_. It wasn’t until Outlook sent a handmaid to knock on his door did he started moving once more.

 

* * *

 

Sabo’s first step on a ship wasn’t his own, nor was it his first stride to freedom, but it was still _his_.

He stepped cautiously onto the deck, something shivering beneath his skin as he got a whiff of salt breeze and seaweed. He took a second to inhale sharply, and his heart soared in response. For the first time in a long time, he saw colours. Everything was a brilliant, glittering _blue_.

The sky was blue, the clouds were a fluffy white, and most importantly, the _waters._ They shimmered under the sun, small waves surging over each other.

Sabo could watch the ocean forever, and fall in love over and over again.

“Move it, boy!” Outlook barked from behind, stabbing his cane into the small of his back. He bit back a yelp of pain, flinching away instinctively.

He shot his father an angry stare, but the nobleman sauntered past him without care, his steel cane thudding against the wooden deck. He looked annoyed with the crew, evident from his yelling and commanding. It wasn’t long before Outlook hurried into his cabin for safely as the anchor was dropped. Unlike Sabo, who chose to stay outside and watched the scurrying crew in awe, who felt better than he ever did in his luxurious room.

“Lord Sabo... perhaps you might wish to rest in your cabin?” The captain said hesitantly, appearing beside him.

He grimaced at the honorific attached to his name. It still sounded weird no matter how many times he has heard it.

“Just Sabo, please.” He said. At the captain’s horrified look, he backtracked instantly. Then he noticed the man’s darting gaze in Outlook’s cabin’s direction. “Maybe... only if we’re alone.”

The captain blinked at him in surprise. Then, a more considering look flickered over his face as he studied Sabo. “I’m Captain Rudder.”

Captain Rudder was a broad man, with an unshaven face and short dark brown hair. He seemed to relax after introducing himself, producing a wide, toothy smile that seemed to suit his face more than a nervous grimace.

“Pleased to meet you.” Sabo said, smiling back tentatively. The smile felt strange on his face, strained and unfamiliar, as if he had forgotten how to use it. But it wasn’t any less genuine, as Rudder doesn’t look offended at all, but oddly delighted instead.

“So, have you ever sail a ship before?” The captain asked.

“No… This is my first time.” He mumbled, shaking his head slowly. “I did try to learn how to navigate when I was young, but…”

He tried studying on basic nautical navigation through books he had sneaked from the library, but hands-on in the field practice was different from theoretical studies.

“Well, you are in luck.” Rudder winked. “I’m one of the best navigators in East Blue!”

Sabo gave him a sceptical look, although his lips were twitching in excitement. When Rudder beckoned him to follow, he eagerly trailed after the captain, shedding his coat along the way.

Freedom was fleeting and bitter, but it still sang in his blood sweetly. He would take what he could get.


	3. Chapter 3

There was an inordinate number of nobles and their guards wandering around Catania this morning. Marco ducked behind a pillar as a group of expensively-dressed men walked past. There must be some sort of event taking place in the near future. He’s going to have to send word out to his captain not to sail straight into port.

While Whitebeard has nothing to fear from petty nobles and their feeble guards, it was always wise not to get involved with the upper-class society. Most of them have high connections to the Marines. As one of Whitebeard’s territories, Catania has always welcomed them warmly, and Whitebeard would not like Marines coming down to Catania to disturb the locals here.

“Hello, Marco-san!” A tall, red-haired rigger strolled past with a jaunty wave, easily recognizing the 1st Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. “Is Whitebeard-sama coming to our city? Don’t think it’s going to be a good idea.” He shot an uneasy look at a nearby cruise ship already docked at the port.

Marco seized the opportunity for some necessary information-gathering. He grabbed the rigger’s wrist and dragged him behind the pillar.

“What’s going on?” He demanded.

The rigger looked a little terrified, but he managed to stutter out a reply. “Um, Lord Phlux had booked the Rasa Resort for this weekend. He’s holding a Christmas Ball. I heard... that there will be quite a few businessmen and nobles attending.”

So, he was right. The nobles were involved. Not surprising, as the Rasa Resort on Catania was famous for their spa services and beautiful sea view. He just had shitty luck to be on the same island at the same time as a bunch of snotty nobles.

“Thanks.” He patted the man’s shoulder gratefully before he dashed off. He heard the rigger called out a cheerful ‘it’s Tommy!’ at his back as he left.

Carefully, he closed his purple jacket over his chest, covering up his Whitebeard tattoo. With practiced ease, he strolled out into the open. The nobles didn’t even chance him a second glance, too eager to get off their ships. He nearly scoffed, rolling his eyes inwardly as he spied one nobleman with a really hideous moustache puking into the ocean.

“I gave you one order! One simple order!” A loud, masculine voice drifted over. Marco peered over curiously, watching surreptitiously as a finely-dressed older man and a younger blonde made their way down the platform of their ship. “Behave yourself! That means— _no fraternizing with riffraff!_ You’re my heir, and you’re going to manage yourself with dignity during the Christmas Ball. If you embarrass me...” He grabbed the blonde’s arm and punctured his threat with a forceful shake. “This is your only chance to prove yourself to me. I’ll not have you shame me any further.”

“You were doing just fine on your own.” The blonde spat, attempting to pull away.

The older man’s ugly face distorted into a ghastly snarl, and he raised his hand to slap the blonde across the face. Marco felt anger twisted in his chest, but he quickly tamped it down. This was not his business. The blonde was probably the man’s son. It was _not_ his business.

The surrounding crew was busy with anchoring the ship, but the servants and guards were watching. Their expressions were not— _not_ cold, but impassive, as if they were used to this particular scene. The implication was a stone sinking in Marco’s stomach.

It’s not like he wasn’t familiar with scenes of abuse. He had turned a blind eye to many, despite his wishes. If he was to stop and help everyone, then he wouldn’t be able to move on at all.

And this was a _noble_. Why the hell should he care?

He glanced at the blonde’s face, saw the dark _furious_ eyes, the defiance and aggression and bared teeth, more _feral_ than noble, and _wondered._


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes Marco really hated his impulses. When he spotted a familiar blonde wandering through the busy marketplace, looking completely at ease despite his fancy clothes, he couldn’t help but felt his curiosity ignited.

 _Ignore, ignore, ignore. Continue walking, Marco._ He forced himself to turn away, but the flicker of blond hair and black coat flashed in his peripheral vision, calling out to him like a siren. He thought of eyes like embers and brimstones, pale skin reddening from the slap, the sound of flesh hitting against flesh ringing in the air. He thought of how similar this blond-haired noble was to Ace, both long-limbed and burning grief and anger in their eyes.

 _Fuck me,_ Marco thought. He turned back around and trailed after the blonde.

It was interesting to watch how a noble navigated his way through the marketplace, a place that nobles loathed to step into, with all the fishy smells and bustle. But the boy moved like he had spent his entire life wandering in such places, blending in perfectly amongst the locals and thugs.

There was a story behind that, and Marco itched to know.

It wasn’t long before the blonde started attracting the wrong kind of attention though. Marco scowled when he noticed a man watching in a darkened corner. _Bounty hunter_ , he deduced. Most probably the sort that hunted for potential slaves to sell.

Marco hated that sort.

He frowned even harder when he noticed the bounty hunter stalking after the blonde. _Damn this reckless brat,_ he thought angrily. He quickened his pace after the both of them. His hands instinctively shifted into talons as he intervened between them. A mere bounty hunter was nothing against the strength of Marco the Phoenix. He easily took the bounty hunter down, pondering on the necessary punishment he should mete out to this _fool_.

He could not believe the audacity of this bounty hunter—for even thinking of hunting in Whitebeard’s territory.

“Wow.” A voice blurted out in surprise.

Startled, Marco turned around abruptly, only to see the blonde staring at him. The boy was staring at his talons, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully before glancing down at the unconscious bounty hunter.

“Is that a Devil Fruit?” The blonde asked in interest.

 _What’s wrong with this crazy kid?_ Most sane people would have run off screaming at what looked like a scene of murder, but this noble just stood there and stared in amazement.

“Y—Yes.” Marco replied, talons shifting back to human hands. He saw dark eyes widened even further as blue flames licked the edge of his hands.

“So cool!” The boy grinned, and the gleeful look was a startling transformation. The smile brightened his eyes, smoothing away his frown lines, making him looked heartachingly _young_. He couldn’t be any older than twenty, maybe closer to Ace’s age. Their newest brother, who turned eighteen months ago.

“Is it a Zoan type?” The blonde continued, oblivious to Marco’s thoughts. “I have never seen anything like that before! What’s the blue flames for? Is it part of your ability?”

“How would you know?” Marco interrupted dryly, secretly amused by his enthusiasm. “Have you seen many Devil Fruits?”

And just like that, the boy deflated. He looked sheepish and—oddly enough, wistful.

“Just one.” He said cryptically. “I have seen descriptions in books.”  

 _Books, huh._ A noble living in his gilded cage have probably never seen much, other than his pitiful world in books. The boy came closer, unafraid, and up close, Marco could see the bruise on his cheek. He was used to seeing bruises and scrapes on his brothers, but they were pirates, hardened men on the ship of a Yonko. And this was a young noble, and the bruise felt _wrong_ on his smooth skin.

Despite the callouses on his palms, the fine nicks on his fingers, the quiet grace of one used to fighting etched in every line of the blonde’s body. He was a survivor playing dress-up in fine clothes and polished shoes.

“You should watch your surroundings when you’re alone.” He advised. “It’s dangerous in the New World. You never know what dangers lay around the corner.”

“Like you?” The blonde asked curiously, eyes shrewd.

He blinked in surprise. “Yes, like me.”

The boy folded his arms across his chest, a pensive expression on his face that Marco would learn one day spelled trouble.

“Okay.” He said agreeably. “Then, I guess you need to teach me how to watch out for danger, right?”

 _What?_ “What?” Marco coughed.

“I’m Sabo.” The boy smiled, stretching out one hand towards him. “What’s your name?”

He’s not sure why, but he has a sudden dread that he’s going to regret this. But, he found himself replying gruffly, his curiosity not in the least satisfied by this strange noble.

“I’m Marco.”


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear oyaji,_

_Have successfully dealt with the Red Herring Pirates. Have taught them a lesson in hunting in our territories. Don’t worry, no fatal injuries as promised. They were just a bunch of dumb rookies._

_There’s a Christmas Ball this weekend, and many nobles are in attendance. I would advise docking the ship at Port D instead of the main port. Too many eyes around._

_Met this noble kid. His father is an asshole. They couldn’t be any more different than day and night. I wonder if they are even biologically related. The kid’s too pretty to be related to his asshole of a father._

_I think you will like the kid. He’s a cheeky brat, but he reminds me of Ace._

_What do you think of adopting a noble?_

_Regards,_

_Marco_

* * *

 

Marco was an interesting guy. There was something familiar about the man. Something about that droopy eyes and funny hairstyle that tickled the back of Sabo’s head, practically itching for recognition. Maybe he was an infamous pirate, he mused.

He has been secretly keeping track of bounties in the Grand Line whenever he could, especially Ace’s movement in the New World. Whoever said bribery was an old trick does not understand the value of money and human greed. Sometimes even the younger nobles loved to gossip about big news on the Grand Line. He doesn't even have to trick or bribe them to relay news to him.

Marco was definitely a pirate, he decided. Although he couldn't figure out who the guy was yet, or that strange Devil Fruit ability with blue flames…

“Don't you have a crew to go back to, Marco-san?” He asked innocently, feet dangling off the rooftop as he admired the sun setting over the ocean’s horizon.

“You mean, besides babysitting you here?” Marco replied wryly.

Sabo huffed in amusement, not believing his bluff at all. The older blonde always acted like it's a chore to hang out with him, but he never failed to turn up at their meeting spot.

“My captain will be arriving this weekend.” Marco divulged suddenly. “To pick me up. I was sent ahead to deal with some problematic pirates pillaging around the area.”

“Pirates hunting pirates?” He grinned.

Marco gave him a dry look, his default expression whenever he has to deal with Sabo. “My captain... owes the locals of this island. It's a favour.”

“You must be strong then.” He said astutely. “And someone who holds a high position in the crew. Or else your captain wouldn't have trust you this much to send you out alone.”

“You're a sharp one.” Marco grinned. This noble was full of surprises every day!

Sabo shrugged nonchalantly, scuffing the heels of his boots against the wall. He could feel his mood sank as he thought about Marco’s revelation. The pirate would be gone by this weekend.

“Two more days…” He muttered. Two more days of spending time with Marco and listening to stories about the pirate’s brothers. Two more days of pretend freedom, albeit temporary. He took his dread and disappointment and shoved them into the deepest corner of his heart, looking up at Marco with a bright smile instead. “Then I guess we can't waste any more time, right? You have to finish that story about Pompadour-san nearly blowing up the kitchen!”

Marco looked a little dubious at his good mood, but did not call him out on it. Despite his grumbling, he continued on with his tale. Sabo wondered if he even noticed the smile on his perpetual sleepy-looking face whenever he talked about these mysterious brothers of his. He could understand a little bit of that feeling. His own brothers always brought a smile on his face as well, his light in his colourless world.

He ignored the building tightness in his chest, the black hole in his heart sucking up any attempts of happiness and hope. Concentrating instead on the low timbre of Marco’s voice, it was easier to bear when he immersed himself in the present instead of the aching longing to say _take me with you_.


	6. Chapter 6

His father found out. Of course, he did. Every time Sabo tried to reach out for freedom, his father would be there to put a stop to it. Every time he tried to break out of his cage, Outlook would be there to triple the locks and break his wings further.

There's no escaping his father. Outlook was an ever-present darkness in his life, always there to pull him back into the abyss and remind him that he was a worthless, ungrateful child that was too weak to grasp his own freedom.

Outlook had been _pissed_. Pissed enough to take the cane and struck at his head in a fit of anger.

The man didn’t even seem to care about the consequences as he commanded his guards to drag Sabo back to his room. Sabo had spent the next couple of hours woozy and nauseated, a furious headache pounding in his skull.

The next day, there’s a mottle of black blue bruises spreading from cheek to temple, the edges tinged with yellow and red broken veins. The handmaid had taken one look at his face and gasped in horror.

“Fix that face of his.” Outlook instructed tersely before sweeping out of the room, not even bothering to give Sabo a second glance.

The handmaid, Lily—who couldn’t be any older than he was—had gathered her composure and taken out her makeup kit, apologizing profusely under her breath every time he so much as winced from her prodding.

“You should really see a doctor, Lord Sabo.” She whispered frantically, her calm breaking slightly once she’s done. He inspected her work in the mirror. He was too tired to care, but he felt a flicker of admiration at how the concealer had blended seamlessly with his skin colour. Other than the slight bump, it was hard to see that beneath all the makeup was a giant bruise.

“It’s fine.” He muttered, putting down the mirror. He wanted to smile reassuringly at the girl, but a spike of headache flared when he tried to get his jaw muscles to move. He gave up after a brief moment of dizziness and pain.

“What’s the time now?” He asked.

“It’s five minutes to 5pm.” Lily replied, watching him anxiously.

His heart skipped a beat in alarm. He was supposed to meet Marco at 5pm. He stood up hurriedly, swearing when his legs nearly collapsed under him.

“Lord Sabo!” The girl cried out in shock, jumping up to catch him.

 _Oh god, oh god, I’m going to puke._ He didn’t, managed to ease the feeling of nausea in his abdomen as the handmaid helped him back into the chair.

“Thanks, Lily.” He breathed. “I’m going to need a favour.”

Her brows furrowed in worry, but her eyes were bright with caution. Most of the house staff were familiar with Sabo’s recalcitrant attitude when it came to listening to Outlook.

Five minutes later, Sabo was hurrying down the streets at breakneck speed. To his relief, Marco was still waiting at their meeting spot.

“You’re late.” Marco said flatly, turning around as he came to a stop before him.

Sabo huffed out an exhausted apology, trying to regain his bearings as he straightened up. His head was still aching from the pain, but it was tolerable at the moment with the painkillers he had taken.

“You alright?” Marco asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the younger blonde. He wasn’t sure what was it about Sabo that made him uneasy, but the moment he caught sight of the noble, alarm bells started ringing in his head.

Tentatively, he stretched out with his haki towards Sabo. The noble’s aura was… _fluctuating._ Distress peppered Sabo’s soft blue aura, the edges greying out.

“I’m fine.” Sabo said easily, grinning at him.

Marco does not believe him.

He walked right up and studied Sabo’s features intensely. Sweat dotted Sabo’s forehead, purple bruises smudged the bottom of dark eyes, and he looked about to topple over if there’s a breeze around. Marco’s eyes widened when he spotted a discrepancy of colouring at the curve of Sabo’s cheekbone. He has helped to do Izo’s makeup too many times not to notice cosmetics being used.

“Marco—” Sabo protested when he reached out and caught his chin, holding his head still. Licking his thumb, Marco rubbed at the discolouring—until the concealer came off.

Sabo ducked his head in shame, his eyes too bright, too wet under the orange sunlight.

Marco forcefully reined in his killer intent. There’s no need to ask who had done this to Sabo. God, he wanted to _murder_ Sabo’s father.

“Marco?” Sabo said weakly.

He’s trying to control his fury for Sabo’s benefit, but the kid was making it terribly hard. Sabo was a cheeky brat, infuriating and brazen with his attitude, but there’s hidden knives behind his silver tongue and a mind like a steel trap.

Sabo should never have to look that _scared._

“I’m leaving tonight.” Marco said abruptly, then cursed himself a beat later as Sabo’s face fell.

“Oh.” Sabo’s voice was small. “Have your crew arrived?”

Marco sighed, wishing he could slap himself over the head. Sabo was trying to keep it together, but the look in his eyes was heart-breaking. If Izo found out that he made the kid cry, who the fuck cares if Izo knew Sabo or not? Izo would punt him across the Calm Belt.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Do you want to come with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me for the cliffhanger.


	7. Chapter 7

_**"** Birds born in a cage think flying is an illness.  **"**_

_- Alejandro Jodorowsky_

 

* * *

 

At first, he didn’t register Marco’s question. The pain in his head was steadily increasing. Nausea churned in his stomach, bile threatening to expel out of his mouth. He was focusing all his energy in curbing the nausea, knowing that if he gave in and vomited, he would pass out.

And then— “ _Do you want to come with me?”_

His world came to a standstill.

_Yes, yes, please take me with you. Yes, I want to come. Please._

And then he thought of his father, who was always there to stop him from running. He’s the bogeyman under Sabo’s bed, the monster that tied his wings together and slammed the lock over his cage. He’s the echo in his head, reminding him of his worthlessness every day, reminding him that he’s never good enough—not enough for his brothers to come back for him.

“I can’t.” He said, a sob catching in his throat. He straightened up, a practiced smile sliding across his face. He’s a noble— _stand straight, stop sniffling like a child!_ There’s nowhere else for him out there in the world. “I can’t.” He felt as if he’s on the verge of shattering, if he tried to speak anymore, but he soldiered on because Marco has always been so nice and he can’t worry the pirate. “I have duties here. I can’t go with you.”

His grin felt forced and fake, but everyone has always pretended not to notice anyway. “You better not forget about me, Marco-san!”

Marco stared at him, his droopy eyes wide for the first time. Sabo felt victorious, for coaxing out an emotion from the stoic pirate. Marco was always so cool and calm that he wondered if it’s even possible to shake the older blonde.

“I have to get ready for the Christmas Ball, so—” He spun on his heel, turning to leave before Marco could see the tremor in his smile. But he moved too fast and vertigo rocked through his body. One second he’s still standing, the next he’s falling, falling.

Marco darted forward in surprise, catching the boy before his head hits the ground. Sabo groaned in his arms, one shaky arm flung up to cover his eyes from the setting sun.

“Dammit, kid...” Marco sighed. This boy was really too ridiculous for him. Did he really think he’s fooling anyone with that too wide smile? It was so fake that Marco had to cringe.

There’s absolutely no way he could let Sabo walked back to the hotel, back to that _repulsive_ man. He didn’t want Sabo anywhere near that abhorrent noble who would beat his own son up until his face was blackened with bruises hard enough to give him a concussion.

“Hey, kid,” He gently shook Sabo. “Don’t go to sleep. Stay awake.”

Sabo murmured something foul under his breath, his eyes struggling to stay open. His arms flailed slightly, but he was too weak to push Marco away. The pirate slid an arm under his legs and lifted the younger blonde up effortlessly.

Marco usually doesn’t do the whole kidnapping business, but. He’s a _pirate._

Maybe Ace would like a new brother closer to his age.

With his mind make up, he took off with a noble stolen in his arms. They have to leave before Sabo’s father realized his son was gone. But if the asshole thought of coming after Sabo... well, Marco has a broad imagination and if the bastard tried anything, Marco would be very willing to test out some of his new techniques on the man.

“Welcome back, Marco!” There’s a chorus of excited greetings as he leaped onto the deck of the Moby Dick. Then, one by one, his brothers fell silent when they noticed the boy in his arms.

“Hey, oyaji, so it looks like we’re going to have another mouth to feed.” Marco said dryly to his captain, ignoring the rest of the crew’s shocked stares. “His name is Sabo... and I need a doctor to take a look at him now.”

Ace pushed his way through the crowd, and ah—just the person Marco’s looking for. The younger pirate’s face was pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the noble.

“Did you say _Sabo_?” He squawked.


	8. Chapter 8

After Sabo left them, Ace had carried on with Luffy, betrayal and fury cackling in his heart. And then the incident with Grey Terminal happened, and he nearly lost Luffy. He decided he needed to become stronger, so that he could protect the people he loved.

His anger at Sabo faded quickly—like he could ever stayed angry with his first friend for long. He tried breaking into High Town, desperate to get back their brother. But he soon run into their first obstacle. He has no idea where Sabo lived. So, Ace had taken to sneaking into High Town, trying to gather information.

Ace had forbidden Luffy from helping. The younger boy wouldn’t know what subtlety was even if you hit him over the head with it. Despite Luffy’s pleading and hounding, Ace stood firm. There was no way Sabo would ever forgive him if Luffy got hurt because of him.

He could still remember the day he saw Sabo again. The moment he saw the familiar blonde head, he nearly cried in relief. Sabo was fine. Sabo was _safe_.

He had recognized Outlook immediately, walking at the head. Behind him, Sabo followed with a dark frown, beside an ugly-looking kid with a fishbowl hair-cut. He followed them from a safe distance, until he had picked out Sabo’s house.

The first time he broke in, he was nearly caught by the guards. The second time, he only managed to reach the fences before the alarm rang. The third time, he was caught and chained up in a cellar before Outlook came striding up to him.

“ _You_.” Outlook had taken one look at his face and spat in disgust. “What do you think you’re doing, you ruffian?”

“Trying to get back my brother!” Ace growled. “Give Sabo back!”

“Leave Sabo alone.” Outlook had threatened. “Or I won’t guarantee his safely.”

“You would harm your own son?” Ace was incensed, lunging forward even as the chains held him back.

Outlook’s expression grew dark. His rage petered out, until he was utterly calm. The unexpected calmness freaked Ace out, and he flinched away from the noble.

“My son,” Outlook started. “Have been corrupted by you. He has been shaming me at every turn since his return. If it wasn’t for the necessity for him to take over my company, I would have him disowned.” His glare turned venomous. “But due to my efforts, I have been trying to rid him of those funny thoughts! I’ll not have all my efforts be ruined by you.”

He moved to turn away, chin tilted haughtily. “Don’t forget, I still have Stelly. Sabo might be my heir, but I have a spare. I have no further use for him if you try to destroy my efforts. The moment he has met the both of you, he was already tainted.”

Ace’s blood grew cold.

“Come for Sabo again, and I’ll find him serving better use to the Tenryubito.” Outlook said coldly. “At least he’s of some use to them rather than the rebellious acts he’s currently displaying.”

That had been the day Ace realized he could hate someone even more than Gol D. Roger.

Ace was released, but with the warning that a bullet would greet him next if he tried to break in again.

Ace had gone back home with his tail tucked between his legs, Outlook’s threat hanging over his head. He had prohibited Luffy from going after Sabo, lied that their brother would be happier being left alone. At 8, Luffy had still hero-worshipped Ace. Reluctant and stubborn he might be, he finally acquiesced to Ace’s will.  

He had hated himself for that ever since. But he has seen the lengths Outlook would go, and could not find any lie in the noble’s threats. Better for his brother to resent him than watched Sabo be sentenced to the Tenryubito as a slave.

Dadan was right. He was still too small, too _weak_ , to change the world. Until he’s strong enough to make a difference, he would just have to wait until he gained the strength to save Sabo.

Seven years later, he set sail, gathered up a crew and became captain, found his Devil Fruit and became Fire Fist, challenged Jinbe to a fight and tried to assassinate Whitebeard at least a couple of hundred times before becoming a son of the Yonko.

Eight years later, he was a proud Whitebeard pirate, living in infamy as his own person. Eight years later, Marco stole a noble and upheaved Ace’s entire world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually not quite sure where I'm going with this story... I have a general feel of the whole plot, but not much planning. I really want to write Luffy in though.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest chapter to date! Enjoy!

_“Hey, Sabo,” Luffy murmured, drowsing against his older brother’s shoulder. On Sabo’s other side, Ace was snoring softly and trying desperately to keep himself upright. “You should join my crew.”_

_“No way.” The blonde said instantly. Ha. Sail in a crew with his little brother as captain?_

_Luffy pouted up at him, his eyes crisscrossing as Sabo poked his nose in retaliation._

_“Why not?” The boy cried, flailing wildly as he sat up. “You said you wanted to write a book based on all your adventures! I’m going to be the Pirate King and I’m going to have so much adventures!”_

_Sabo shook his head fondly at Luffy’s enthusiastic flailing._

_“We all have our own paths to walk.” He said. “You want to be Pirate King. Ace wants to find the meaning of his existence. I want to find freedom. We all have our own goals and dreams.”_

_“But I don’t want us to be separated.” Luffy mumbled._

_He stifled a smile, reaching out to ruffle dark hair. Luffy protested half-heartedly, and he was quick to lean back into his brother’s warmth._

_“Just because we’re setting out on our own paths does not means we’re not together.” He said quietly. “We’ll always find our way back together. You’ll find your own precious people. And so will we, but that doesn’t change us being brothers.”_

_Luffy’s expression was constipated, a deep furrow between his brows. Sabo wondered if it’s taking all of Luffy’s brainpower to understand what he’s talking about._

_“Oh.” Luffy frowned. “Okay.”_

_He flicked a finger at Luffy’s forehead. “Now go to sleep and stop asking weird questions.”_

_Luffy sulked at him and lay his head back against the blonde’s shoulder. He was instantly asleep, a bubble forming from his nose. Sabo sighed in exasperation, and turned away to look at Ace._

_Ace’s head was jerking backwards every few minutes, even as he valiantly tried to act like he could sleep upright. Sabo rolled his eyes and reached out to pull his other stubborn brother close. Ace came willingly, dropping his head onto Sabo’s shoulder._

_God, he loved this pair of idiots. So, so much. Sometimes, he thinks that his tiny body could not contain all he felt. He patted the two sleeping boys on each side of his shoulder, and hoped they knew how much he loved them._

* * *

 

Sabo woke up with tears tracking down his cheeks, although he’s not sure _why_ he’s crying. He couldn’t remember his dream, already fading from his mind like smoke. There’s an ache in his chest, and it felt like it would linger forever, like it would never go away.

He reached up weakly to feel bandages on his head. He’s on a bed, and he could spy medical equipment around the room from his position. There’s an IV drip attached to his arm and he carefully slipped the needle out, before tossing it aside. Shakily, he sat up, just as the door creaked open and admit a young man in. A young man with black hair and freckles like stars over his tanned skin.

He felt the world jolted to a stop around him, time seemingly freezing as he stared at his visitor.

“...Ace?” He whispered, mouth going dry.

Eight years and counting, but he could never forget how his brothers looked. There’s no way, _no way_ he could ever forget them.

“Hey, Sabo.” Ace smiled wanly. He’s taller—much taller than the little spitfire in Sabo’s memory. More muscular, firm with sinewy muscles and skin speckled with battle scars. The idiot’s not even wearing a shirt, and his signature orange hat rested on his back, just like the picture in his bounty poster.

Sabo’s brain refused to compute the scene in front of him. There’s no way Ace was right here with him. Ace should be sailing with the Whitebeard Pirates now—

 _Marco._ Marco the Phoenix. Fuck, why didn’t he make the connection?

He had spent the last few days dragging around the 1st Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, forcing the man to go along with his whims.

“Fuck.” He said out loud, panic seizing him. “I have to go back. How long have I been out?”

He tried to get out of bed, but was promptly slammed back. Two scorching hands dug deep into his shoulders as Ace forced him to stay down.

“You’re not going back to _him_.” Ace said emphatically. “Marco told me everything.”

He remembered the bruise on Sabo’s face, could still see the bluish black discoloration and red broken veins branching across one side of his face. The swelling had gone down, and the nurses had pasted on a bandage on Sabo’s cheek. But seeing his brother limp and lifeless in Marco’s arms—for the first time in eight years—had been a shock.

“Ace, I...” Sabo trailed off, closing his eyes briefly. He finally registered the faint rocking and the sound of waves outside. “Ace, where exactly am I?”

“You’re on the Moby Dick.” Ace replied. “Marco brought you back.” His eyes hardened. “We have already sailed off from Catania last night, Sabo. You’re not going back.”

“So, you kidnapped me?” He said incredulously.

Ace looked gobsmacked, but only for a minute. Then his expression abruptly changed into a furious glare.

“Marco _rescued_ you!” He snapped. “He rescued you from that vile, cruel, horrible and disgusting bastard! He saved you from a man who hits you in the face in public and threatened to sell you off to the Tenryubito if you become _worthless_. He saved you from a shitty _father_ who gave his own son a fucking concussion!”

Sabo has never heard Ace said the word ‘father’ with such revulsion and loathing before, not even when he’s referring to Gol D. Roger. He felt a momentary confusion at the bit about the Tenryubito, but his bewilderment was soon swept aside by his own fury. He swore he felt something snapped at the back of his mind as he shoved at Ace.

“I don’t need rescuing! I don’t need anyone to _save_ me from anything! I did damn well for myself considering my circumstances for the _past eight years_!” He yelled. He’s not going to break. He’s _not_ going to break, dammit. “I was— _am_ fine. You don’t get to—to just barged right into my life after so many years and think you can start controlling my fucking life!”

Ace’s skin was red hot against his hands, but Sabo has never felt anything so _raw_ in so long. Hysteria crawled up his chest, threatening to burst through his skin in a rivulet of blood. He was too big, he was too small. His measly human flesh felt too tight around him and he wanted to _rip_ them off his bones.

“Sabo, Sabo, _breathe_.” Ace begged. “You’re having a panic attack.”

He ignored his brother's pleads. Still breathing in sharp, panicky gasps, he lifted his head from where it was bowed over Ace’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you come for me, Ace?”

A sob caught in Ace’s throat, his dark eyes stricken as he stared down at him.

Sabo could feel the tears welling in his eyes, and he let them fell unashamedly. He had agonized over that question for years, wondering if Outlook was right after all. After years of listening to the same damn spiel from his parents, of having his hope slowly dwindling away, he didn’t know exactly when but he started to _believe_ them.

He started to believe that he’s not good enough, that Ace and Luffy have decided that they were better off without him. That it’s truly like what his parents had said. That his brothers have looked into his soul and deemed him undeserving.

 _Luffy would never think like that. Ace would kill me if he knows I’m being such an idiot._ But it didn’t stop the dark thoughts slipping through the cracks in his mind.

“I did come for you. Believe me, Sabo. I—I did.” He could hear Ace apologizing through the haze of panic. “I did. I did. I’m sorry.”

His heart beat fast and furious, and he was sweating and shaking. He felt like he was dying, like he doesn’t have enough air.

“I wanted to come back.” Ace whispered, low and heavy with grief. “I would have killed your father to save you. But I was too weak. Too weak. I’m sorry, Sabo.”

He let out one loud, keening sob, and dragged Ace forward. Like always, Ace came easily. He let Ace pulled him into his lap, knocking the pillow off the bed as half of their legs tangled in the blankets.

They were a mess, crying and trembling with guilt and pain, two boys holding onto each other as if they would never let go again. To Ace, if he doesn’t have the need to breathe, that’s probably what he’s going to do.

He’s not letting his brother go again.


	10. Chapter 10

He didn’t know how much he missed— _needed_ —Ace until he has his brother in his arms, until he could feel the missing piece in his soul sliding back into place and going— _ah, there you are, I finally found you._

He woke up still curled up against his brother, his head only aching slightly. Ace’s skin felt like a furnace, a wildfire living in his veins. It was so comfortably warm that Sabo nearly fell back asleep again.

However, his fidgeting woke Ace up. There was a brief moment of confused scuffling before the two boys were staring at each other on each end of the bed.

“You okay?” Ace asked carefully, crossing his legs beneath him.

He felt like _crap_.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It was an automatic response, hardwired to insist _he’s fine, he’s really okay, he felt better than ever, of course—_

He caught a glimpse of disappointment in Ace’s eyes at his blatant lie. Something in his chest shrivelled up, and he wanted to hunch in, to hide, to run like he always did, _coward_.  

There was a loud knock on the door before someone was barging in. Someone androgynous-looking and clad in a pink kimono.

“Ace, Marco is looking for you.” The feminine-looking guy said.

Sabo felt Ace shifted closer, almost protectively.

“But, Sabo—” He bit out, glancing back at the blonde with a worried frown. “Come on, Izo. If it’s not important—”

“It _is_ important.” Izo interrupted sharply. “ _Go._ ” He glanced at Sabo, his eyes softening. “Sabo will be safe with me.”

Ace bit back a growl, his eyes conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to stay by his brother’s side. His brother, who has not seen for eight years. On the other hand, Marco could be scary as hell if you make him wait.

 _“I swear.”_ Izo said, giving him a meaningful look.

Ace sucked in a surprised breath. He’s not sure why, but Izo’s vow loosened something tensed in his chest. Izo knew how important _Sabo_ is to him.

“Fine.” He grumbled, getting off the bed.

It’s only when the door shut behind Ace did Izo moved forward.

“How is your head?” Izo asked, dragging a chair towards Sabo. He sat the chair down daintily beside the bed, crossing one leg over another as he took a seat.

“I’m fine.” Sabo answered, watching the pirate warily.

He’s still not too sure what to feel being on a ship full of notorious pirates. Being on the ship of a _Yonko_.

“Are you feeling better now?” Izo said mildly. “You seemed to be in distress before.”

Sabo cocked his head to the side, surprised.

“I’m sorry. I’m an expert in kenbunshoku haki.” Izo explained, smiling lightly. “Do you know anything about haki?” Sabo shook his head. “Haki is the will of every living being. Not many people can awaken it. One type is kenbunshoku, and that allows me to sense the presence of others. For those skilled enough, they can even pick up fluctuation in emotions.”

Sabo blinked in realization. Had Izo sensed his unease and anxiety and came to interrupt Ace?

“Oh.” He muttered.

But he _did_ feel better. He hadn’t quite known how to deal with Ace yet, after so many years.

“You have nothing to fear on this ship.” Izo said kindly. “No one will hurt you here.” When Sabo did not answer, he leaned forward. “And Ace... he can be a little overbearing with his protectiveness... but I’m sure you know that well. He’s not always good with emotions, so you have to excuse him.”

He laughed, remembering Ace’s overprotectiveness of Luffy when they were young. Even when Ace pretended not to give a shit, he was always looking out for their younger brother.

“Do you always apologize for him?” He asked.

“No,” Izo smiled. “But sometimes he can be a dumbass.”

He felt his lips twitched, but he still felt disconnected from reality. Perhaps it was the moment he finally, _finally_ realized that he’s not going back home crashing down on him.  

“Sabo,” Izo said seriously. “No one’s going to make you go back to that _monster_.”

His breathing hitched, and he was unsettled by the _promise_ in Izo’s eyes. Like he would set fire to the ocean if anyone dared to even _try_ taking Sabo back to his parents.

 _Why?_ These people don’t even _know_ him.

“You should come meet oyaji when you’re ready.” Izo said softly. “He’s excited to meet you.”

He could understand if Whitebeard was curious to meet the noble that Marco had unceremoniously kidnapped, but Sabo could not comprehend why a Yonko would even be _excited_ to meet him. Besides, he’s a noble, and pirates tended to loathe people like him.

He studied Izo unashamedly, weighing his sincerity. Marco and Izo—and all the other pirates out there—these were the men _Ace_ had called brothers. He supposed he could give them a chance, just like how Marco had given him one.


	11. Chapter 11

“You know, _you_ brought the kid back. Why are you not visiting him?” Thatch asked, interrupting his brooding.

That was before he found out that Sabo was Ace’s long-lost adopted brother. Judging from Ace’s fury, it seemed that the two brothers had quite a bit of history between them when it came to Sabo’s father.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of facing the kid?” Thatch said mildly, although he was trying to stifle a shit-eating smirk on his face.

“I am not scared of Sabo.” He scowled.

Ridiculous. Him afraid of that cheeky little shit? He’s Marco the Phoenix, and he had faced down opponents that would make most men quaked in fear, had fought alongside Whitebeard since the beginning of his reign. There’s no way he’s scared of facing an annoying pipsqueak like Sabo.

“Fine.” He hissed, stalking towards the infirmary. “I’ll go see him.”

He heard Thatch’s chortle behind him, and he valiantly pretended he didn't hear anything.

Sabo was sitting cross-legged on his bed, munching on a chocolate bar absently. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, the collar flipped up at the side. He was, Marco realized with a startle, for the first time looking less than… immaculate.

“Marco!” The boy’s expression brightened when he spotted the two men standing at the doorway, and something in his chest goes uncomfortably warm. He hadn’t expected gratitude when he kidnapped Sabo, certainly. Perhaps a little anger and indignance. He has seen a lot of victims like Sabo, afraid or even reluctant to leave their abusers.

“You look lively.” He commented, a little cautiously. Surprisingly, Ace was not around.

Sabo gave him a playful smirk, one that would have set off alarm bells in his head if he didn’t already know what a brat the boy was.

“At first, I was pissed at you.” The younger blonde said bluntly, going straight for the heart of the matter that has been plaguing Marco for the past few hours since Sabo woke up. “But after thinking over for so long—mainly because you insist on staying away by the way—I supposed you did it because you’re concerned.”

He twitched at the boy’s annoying habit of being too honest.

“You picked a good one, Marco.” Thatch chuckled.

Sabo perked up, his head tilting slightly as he studied Thatch.

“Oh, you must be Pompadour-san.” He exclaimed.

Thatch’s eyes widened in surprise, his hand raising instinctively to touch his proud mane.

“Have bird-brain here been telling stories of me?” He asked with a careful brow raised in Marco’s direction.

“Yeah,” Sabo nodded. “He told me you blew up the kitchen at your captain’s last birthday after you accidentally added salt instead of sugar.”

Thatch blushed red and shot Marco a dirty glare.

“Where’s Ace?” Marco said loudly, before the conversation could escalate into a fight.

Sabo smirked, sensing his irritation and nervousness. “Izo kicked him out for hovering around too much.”

Ah, so the boy has met Izo. Marco could not tell if it’s a good or bad thing yet.

He sat down on the empty chair beside the bed, scrutinizing Sabo’s face carefully. He realized that the noble—sorry, _former_ noble—had an uncanny ability to lie about his own health. If he wasn’t so good at detecting shifts in Sabo’s aura, he might have fallen easily into the boy’s lies as well.

He rued the day Izo managed to get hold of the kid to teach him kenbunshoku haki.

“How’s your head, Sabo?” He asked.

Sabo sobered up, looking away. The bruising seemed to have fade, although it had turned a sickly yellow and purple under the bandage. Marco wished the nurses could apply a bigger bandage, so he didn’t have to see the bruises marked so plainly on the boy’s face and feel burning rage at Outlook every time he looked at Sabo.

“Better.” The younger blonde said quietly. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Just my face.”

Yeah, with that size of a bruise on his face, he’s probably going to feel it for weeks.

“So,” Sabo cleared his throat, his voice going small. “What’s going to happen now?”

He doesn’t want to leave Ace, not when he just has his brother back. But it’s not like he’s expecting a Yonko to allow a noble to freeload on his ship.

Sabo’s just dead weight at this point.

Thatch and Marco exchanged a look above his head.

“Well,” Thatch said slowly when his brother did not speak up. “You’re going to heal up. I don’t think Ace or Izo is going to be happy to see you running around when you’re still recovering from a concussion. And then... well, I don’t think you want to be separate from Ace, so you can stay as long as you like. Ace will probably argue for you to join his division, but—it’s your choice.”

“Don’t let that brat sway you into joining his division.” Marco agreed. “The 2nd Division is the nosiest and most reckless bunch.”

Sabo stared at them wordlessly.

“That doesn’t mean you have to join the Whitebeard pirates.” The older blonde seemed to realize what he had just said, and hurriedly cleared his throat. “You’re not obliged to join just because we saved you.”

“Oh.” Sabo whispered. “Okay.”

Marco wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to, but he sensed that something in Sabo had loosened.

“You’ll do fine here, kid.” Thatch grinned.

He wanted to tell his brother not to carry such hope, such _certainty_. Sabo might not want to stay after recovering, but a small part of him couldn’t help but be affected by Thatch’s confidence.

What can he say? Sabo grew on him. Like a very irritating fungus. It must say something about him that he couldn’t help but grew fond of these two bratty brothers that had come barging into his life.


	12. Chapter 12

Sabo met Whitebeard and it was pretty much anticlimactic in the end.

Whitebeard had bended over in his chair so he could peer at the blonde better, took one look at those wide dark eyes and nodded in approval.

Because while nervous and scared, Sabo had not backed down, refused to look away from his discerning stare. There’s iron behind that coy gaze and brittle smile, and he knew that young Sabo would fit right in with piracy.

Ace beamed in delight, his lips stretching into an excited grin, pleased that his father had given his stamp of approval to his long-lost brother. Marco’s reaction was smaller, but Whitebeard knew his first son. The Phoenix’s shoulders had unwound from the tension, summer blue eyes softening with a hint of relief.

His sons were far too damn transparent.

He leaned back in his chair, cradling a cup of sake in one hand as he contentedly observed the ongoing party in front of him. Or more specifically, the young former noble that Marco had brought back.

The boy’s manners had been immaculate, greeting Whitebeard with a low bow and thanking him for looking after Ace. He might join the crew, but Whitebeard knew that he would never call him father.

Sabo’s situation was different from Ace’s.

Ace had grown up despising his infamous father too, but Sabo had grown up fearing his father’s hateful words and hurtful hands. The word ‘father’ had left lasting damages on the boy, even if his external wounds had healed and vanished from his skin.

He has been sailing with Marco for over thirty odd years, and he recognized the look in his son’s eyes. The deplorable noble that had given his own biological son a concussion would receive his retribution. Marco was far too smart and level-headed to know that he couldn’t go around killing nobles left and right just because they pissed him off, so Whitebeard would graciously turn a blind eye to whatever he’s scheming behind those sharp blue eyes.

There would _never_ be a time when a parent is justified for raising a hand to their child.

While Sabo might be free now, Whitebeard knew that some chains were invisible. He hoped that the boy would find the courage to break the chains himself one day.

He knew that if Sabo asked to join the crew, he would agree in a heartbeat. There’s always room for more family in his heart, and he has a feeling that he would come to love the young blonde as dearly as he does for any of his sons.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [If these wings could fly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933584) by [Mullk6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mullk6/pseuds/Mullk6)




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